Swiss Cheesed
by CaptScarlett
Summary: He thought it was an hallucination. He was wrong. Spoilers for S4 finale.


**A/N Even after months of knowing about the 'Bones wants a baby, Booth obliges' scenario, I still struggle to wrap my brain around the concept. The entire spoiler sounds OOC to me. It remains to be seen whether what they do on the show will convince me otherwise. Anyhoo, read on and enjoy. :)**

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Booth opened his eyes to find himself staring at the ceiling of his hospital room.

Was there a reason for the little holes in the tiles, he wondered? Did they trap and minimize the incessant beeping of hospital machinery or was it purely an aesthetic decision to put them there? If he were lying in a dentist's chair he might be tempted to try counting them as a distraction.

For the first time in his life Booth found himself wishing he was at the dentist. Anywhere would do but here.

Had he dozed off? Surely not with the prospect of what lay ahead looming large. He was way too jittery for sleep.

Maybe they'd given him something to help relax him. He didn't remember. His brain was like the ceiling tiles these days. Or Swiss cheese. Like that character in that tv show whose name he couldn't quite remember. Full of holes.

And about to have one more drilled into it.

They were going into his brain for God's sake! They were going to bore a hole in his skull and poke a microscope in there. Or a periscope. Some kind of scope. And then use a laser or a scalpel or a tiny pair of scissors to cut that damn thing out.

Bones would probably tell him that wasn't even remotely accurate. That what the medical staff would really be doing was… at which point he would tune her out. The last thing he needed now was a blow-by-blow squint account of what to expect in minute, gory, glorious detail. Whatever was going to be done, it would not be pleasant.

Goddamn tumour! Why couldn't it have just been a virus?

His mind could be scrambled egg when they were done with him. Or maybe they might nick something and turn him into a genius. That happened sometimes too, right?

Scrambled egg seemed more likely.

Thank God they didn't want him conscious during the procedure. Nice anaesthetic, see you when it's over baby. That suited Booth just fine.

Endoscope, that's what it was.

He cast his eyes around the room. Where was Bones? She'd said she'd stay and wish him well before he went in. Or had he already had the operation? A tentative feel of his head answered that question in the negative.

Bones. The last abiding memory of her he would take with him into the operating room, that would sustain him through this nightmare, was of their recent night together. A night of passion and tenderness they both hoped would lead to a pregnancy. She wanted his baby. Her kid carrying his genetic material. The thought still amazed him.

But of course it wasn't real. It hadn't actually happened at all, but it was a beautiful tumour-induced fake-memory nonetheless.

Bones didn't want children. She didn't believe in marriage or white picket fences or happy ever afters with only one person, and never in his right mind would Booth commit to having another child out of wedlock with a woman who wasn't his even his girlfriend, let alone his life partner. That just wasn't on the agenda.

He wouldn't trade Parker for the world, but if his situation with Rebecca had taught him anything it was not to go down that road again.

"Booth?" came a whisper from the doorway of his room and he turned to see her standing in the hall.

"Hey Bones," he said with a wan smile, beckoning for her to enter.

"I went to get coffee."

She approached the bed, setting her paper cup down on the table and took his hand in hers. "How are you feeling?"

"Scared."

"Naturally."

"I'm not being irrational?" he asked jokingly.

"Of course not, Booth. A doctor is going to operate on your brain. There's always a chance something might go wrong, no matter how simple the procedure or how experienced the surgical team."

"Thanks Bones, that's very reassuring."

She looked uncertain. "Was I too… forthcoming?"

"Just a little." He smiled at her discomfort and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Hey, you didn't tell me anything I wasn't already thinking. Let's just say I'll be glad when this is all over."

"It shouldn't be much longer now. The nurses will be in shortly to take you through to the OR."

God.

"On a brighter note, I thought you might like to know," she said taking a seat next to him, "that I should have started menstruating yesterday."

"Jeez Bones, that's a little more information than I need right now." Like his brain wasn't overloaded enough as it was.

"It's a perfectly natural bodily function Booth, nothing to be embarrassed about," she countered. "This is the sort of thing I was talking about a while back when I said you had hang-ups."

"Fine, I have hang-ups. Why exactly are you telling me this?"

"I thought you'd be as eager as I am to discover whether I'm pregnant."

Pregnant? He looked at her with surprise. Did she even have a boyfriend? It would certainly impact their working relationship if she were expecting a child. He'd probably have to get a new partner. Assuming he survived the hole in the head experience, that is.

"I thought you didn't want children," he managed.

"I changed my mind, Booth. You know that." He did? Since when? "After all," she continued, "you did actively participate in this endeavour."

Say what now?

He was on drugs. Had to be. They must have added something crazy-making to his IV when he wasn't paying attention. He stared at her with what were possibly the widest, dumbest deer-in-the-headlights eyes ever.

"I haven't taken a test yet. I'd like you to be present when I do so. Of course, the fact that I'm late could be the result of the stress of your situation…" she trailed off. "Anyway, we'll know soon enough one way or the other."

But-

He gaped at her, mouth now open to complete the look.

But…

It was the tumour! Bones didn't want children, she didn't want him. How could it have been anything but an illusion?

It couldn't.

And yet apparently it was.

She wanted him to father her child, and potentially he'd performed just that service.

There might be a baby.

How could he have gone through with something like that? More importantly, how could she have let him? When he could barely distinguish up from down let alone reality from fantasy, how could she have expected him to make such an important decision?

She expected it because they hadn't yet realised the scope of his condition.

Keep your mouth shut Seeley, he willed himself. No point in making a bad situation worse.

Bones was looking at him quizzically. He had to say something.

_Dear Lord and Father of mankind forgive our foolish ways?_ Probably not the wisest choice just now.

"I-" he faltered, uncertain how to press forward without embarrassing himself further. "So we actually-" He couldn't bring himself to finish the thought.

_Reclothe us in our rightful mind._

"What?" She seemed as confused as he, but clearly for different reasons.

The softness, the wetness, that sweet and incredible tightness…it was real. The taste of her skin, the scent of her hair, the guttural cry from her throat as she came… real. The warm afterglow as she briefly allowed herself to be held.

It was all real.

Oh dear God, she thought he wanted this. And perhaps he did on some level, but not like this. Never like this!

She didn't love him. Not in the way he wanted her to. Bones didn't even believe in the concept. They were work partners, friends, but not lovers. It was a transaction that had been completed and the only thing left to do was wait and see if the outcome was successful. That was how she saw it, not as anything more. No flowers and romance, just business.

And he was her supplier.

Sweets would have a field day with this one.

It was supposed to be an hallucination, or even a dream. A dream would suffice too. Like Bobby Ewing stepping out of his Dallas shower a season after he'd 'died'.

Except this wasn't all just magically going to unhappen.

Booth felt paralysed. He couldn't think straight, couldn't breathe. Cold beads of sweat were beginning to prickle on his forehead as his throat constricted. Someone would be yelling 'code blue' and wheeling a crash cart into his room at any moment.

_Let sense be dumb, let flesh retire… _Oh God, enough with the hymns, Seeley!

"Booth, are you alright? You look a little pale."

"I'm okay, Bones," he managed in a strangled voice. "Just worried about the operation."

"Of course." She patted his hand reassuringly. "Everything will be fine. You'll see."

There was no proof of that, the evidence wouldn't be in until after the fact, but she'd said it anyway. She was learning. But somehow Booth doubted anything would be fine ever again. He didn't want this.

Not _like this_.

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Perhaps he'd be lucky enough to discover that this conversation hadn't ever happened when he came out of surgery.

Perhaps it too was simply an illusion, another elaborate trick of his treacherous mind.

He feared it was not.

Goddamn brain tumour!

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**Thanks for reading and reviewing. J.**


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